


An Unexpected Reunion

by Doranwen



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doranwen/pseuds/Doranwen
Summary: Éowyn never thought to meetherin the City.





	An Unexpected Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).



> Thank you to my beta, who prefers to remain anonymous. The story was improved greatly by the help.

Éowyn followed Faramir's servant down the hallway. She had dined with Faramir in the Steward's quarters before—when he could pull himself away from his work—and Lord Húrin had been an excellent chaperone. But this meal made her a little more nervous. "Lord Faramir requests your presence at the noonday meal. His kinswomen have arrived from Dol Amroth and he wishes to introduce you," the messenger had told her yesterday. She wished it were just Húrin again. Soldiers she understood—men who spoke forthrightly, who did not hide their emotions behind false faces as easily. Honest, direct men she could get along with. But women?

The women of Rohan were too busy tending their families to speak with her often, and no one had dared speak openly at court with Gríma there. Éowyn had stayed away from any of the women she might have tried to confide in, because she didn't want to bring them to his attention. And the Gondorian women didn't seem to understand her at all. Apparently it just Wasn't Done to disguise oneself as a man, ride to war, and kill a wraith. Given the strange looks she got, she guessed that they couldn't make up their minds whether to be curious or aghast. The women in the Houses of Healing were little better, fussing over her constantly. It had been a relief when she was well enough to only need one servant, a shy young woman who seemed to understand her lack of enthusiasm for idle chatter.

Which brought her to this meal—and the prospect of meeting these kinswomen of Faramir. He didn't seem the type to be enthusiastic over mindless court women, so she hoped they might be more sensible than some she had met. She took a deep breath as she rounded the corner to the small dining room. Faramir's face lit up, and she couldn't help smiling back at him before turning to look at the two women. One was a maiden only a few years younger than Éowyn herself. The other… Éowyn sucked in her breath suddenly and froze in place when the older woman turned her face fully towards her.

"Daernaneth…" Éowyn whispered. "I remember your face. When I was very little, you came to visit us. And then you went away, and Mōdor and Fæder died…" In shock, she followed the servant's guiding without really looking, sinking into the chair across from Morwen of Lossarnach.

"I apologize for not warning you of my presence," Morwen said. "I did not know what you remembered of me, and asked Faramir not to tell you in advance."

Éowyn pressed her lips together. "I remember hating you during Sindarin lessons. My uncle said you started the requirement for each new generation of the royal family to learn Sindarin. But we were Rohirrim, not Gondorians; Westron was useful as a trade-tongue, but Sindarin?" She'd argued that with Théoden at the time but was never satisfied with his answer. The **only** good thing about Gríma's time at Meduseld was the lack of Sindarin.

"And yet a quarter of your heritage **is** Gondorian," Morwen pointed out. "And now you are marrying one." She glanced over at Faramir, who was watching their interaction silently.

"I thought you hated Rohan," Éowyn continued. "That we were rustic barbarians compared to 'civilized Gondor'." She didn't have to hear the words to interpret the looks of some of the court women, those who had returned to the City as soon as victory was achieved. It was plain to see that in their eyes, Rohan could never compare.

Morwen shook her head. "That has never been true. I loved Rohan very much."

"Which is why you left?" Éowyn's expression was glacial. Faramir and his other kinswoman, whose name she still didn't know, were still as statues. "It's a strange way to show one's love for a country, to abandon it."

Morwen's eyes bored into Éowyn's with a fire that burned the icy expression off her face. "The same way you abandoned it to come here to fight? The same way you're planning on abandoning it in the future?"

The comparison hit Éowyn like a fist to the gut, and she was left nearly gasping as she floundered for the words to say. "That—it—Rohan was in good hands. I knew that someone else could care for the kingdom when I rode to war, and Éomer will be a good king. I couldn't leave him immediately anyway—he will need help the first winter, to manage everything with my uncle gone." She looked at Faramir apologetically; they hadn't yet discussed potential dates for their marriage, and this wasn't how she would have brought up the topic.

"Precisely," Morwen responded. "Rohan was in good hands when I left; Théoden had everything managed very well, and a fine lad to take over from him, and your mother was happy with your father and you two." She took a breath and spoke more calmly. "And my third daughter Leofflæd hadn't made it to her second winter, and Alfirin, my second daughter, was not strong either; I hoped that the gentler winters in Gondor would help. Gwilith, my eldest, wished to see Gondor again, and there was no husband or duty to hold me in Rohan."

"But when Fæder and Mōdor died—" Éowyn began to ask.

"—Alfirin had taken ill despite my best efforts, and never fully recovered. She could not travel, and it was many months before the end came. By then, you were settled with Théoden, and it would have only caused you more grief to uproot you once more. I thought it best to leave you be. Gwilith needed me more; she had lost her first child before it was born and the healer would not allow her to travel."

Éowyn's mind struggled to restructure everything she had thought she knew. The image of a proud Gondorian woman—trying to remake Rohan in Gondor's image—faded, and was replaced by the image of a woman who had loved and lost much. Who could say, if Faramir should die before her, and their children were grown, that she might not go back to Rohan? If she had had a happier childhood there, as Morwen had likely had in Gondor, why wouldn't she? New compassion welled up within her, and overcame her pride. The words were difficult to say, but her sense of honor demanded them, and she forced them to her lips. "Please forgive me, then; I did not understand."

Morwen's face softened. "There is nothing to forgive, Iellig."

At the endearment, Éowyn found herself blinking a little more than she had expected. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Faramir motion for the servant to begin presenting the dishes, and she busied herself with the food on her plate until she regained her emotional equilibrium. Faramir seemed to realize she wasn't ready to speak; his silent presence was calming. She was greeted with a smile on Morwen's face when she felt ready to look up again.

"I did not properly introduce you to everyone," Faramir began. "Éowyn, this is my cousin Lothíriel, kinswoman to Aunt Morwen, as she has insisted we call her."

"You two are related?" Éowyn asked, a note of apprehension in her voice. She hoped not; the talk about her marriage to him would be dreadful enough as it were.

"Very, very distantly," Faramir reassured her. "Most would not be aware of it, except that she has stayed at Dol Amroth for the past decade."

"I'm glad you did." Lothíriel spoke for the first time. "We were lost after Naneth died."

Éowyn looked at Morwen with new appreciation. There were tales there that she found she very much wanted to hear. A sense of missed opportunities crept over her. "I should have written to you," she said to Morwen. "So many years lost…"

"There's no sense in dwelling on regrets," Morwen said firmly. "One cannot change the past, only the present and future. And you make it sound like I'm on my deathbed! I may be old, but I'm not dying any time soon!" she declared.

Éowyn caught sight of Lothíriel hiding a smile, and had to work to keep one off her face as well.

"So when your brother has Rohan managed to your satisfaction," Morwen continued, "I expect I'll see you in these parts regularly." She winked at Éowyn.

Éowyn could hold back the grin no longer. "I expect you might be right," she said with a sideways glance to Faramir, who gazed at her fondly.

"Now, one of the perks of old age is being able to break all the rules of polite society," said Morwen. "Which means I expect you to tell me all about how you got to know each other."

"But Aunt Morwen, Faramir told us yesterday," Lothíriel said in a whisper loud enough for Éowyn to hear.

Morwen waved her objection aside. "That was a summary of a dry history of events—as if he were writing army records. I'm sure Éowyn can make it far more interesting."

Éowyn smiled and began, "It all started in the Houses of Healing…"


End file.
